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The Thursday evening flight from Sicily lands on the isle of Lampedusa just before eight o'clock. The sky is beginning to glow pink and green as Italian holidaymakers walk from the plane towards the tiny arrivals hall. On the way they stroll past a block of low orange buildings tacked on to the end of the airport and surrounded by a shoulder-high fence and reels of barbed wire. Behind the bolted gates a large group of black men are playing a noisy game of basketball. These are some of the clandestini who, having survived the boat journey from north Africa, are imprisoned in the local detention centre.

"Welcome to beautiful Lampedusa," says the sign inside the arrivals hall. Lampedusa is an upmarket resort between Sicily and north Africa. It belongs to Italy, but is nearer Tunisia than Sicily. It is renowned for its splendid beaches and diving - and, increasingly, for the boatloads of desperate migrants who are smuggled here from north Africa. The clandestini receive a completely different kind of reception.

The airport detention centre was built to accommodate 200 people. But when Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) was finally allowed inside last year to monitor conditions, it reported that up to 10 times that number were being crammed inside.

The Italian authorities used to ferry the clandestini from Lampedusa to Sicily and allow them to apply for asylum there. But at the end of last year they started flying them straight to Libya instead, regardless of where they came from and in defiance, many believe, of the Geneva convention. Meanwhile MSF has been told it will not be readmitted to the detention centre.

Just a few minutes away from the airport, crowds of boisterous, well-heeled Italians are out for their passeggiata along the harbour front. Local trattorias sell excellent fresh seafood, and their menus advertise exotic blends of traditional Italian and north African cuisine. The cocktail bars stay open late and there is a new nightclub pumping out Sicilian pop music.

My hotel's receptionist, Franco, recommends a boat trip around the island. He is from Lampedusa and says summer is great fun because the tourists liven the place up. As for winter, he rolls his eyes and imitates blowing his brains out. The hotel closes and there is nothing to do. So in winter Franco works for the carabinieri instead, trawling the coast for renegade boats from Africa.

He explains that the carabinieri use radar-equipped naval vessels to detect the pathetic fleets of rowing boats and dinghies attempting the 150km crossing from Libya or Tunisia. But the boats are often so small that the carabinieri can't spot them even on their radar screens, and a horrific number of people drown or die of thirst en route. But the boats keep on coming. Up to 10,000 clandestini arrived in Lampedusa last year.

The mayor, Bruno Siragusa, has complained about the number of dead bodies being washed ashore. He claims Lampedusa needs additional boats from Sicily to help clean up the waters, because the corpses are spoiling the tourist trade.

Judging by the number of yachts, schooners and fishing boats in the harbour, the tourist trade is doing fine. Andreas runs boat trips around the island. He takes a dozen tourists at a time on a slow day-long cruise, stopping en route for them to snorkel among shoals of glittering fish.

He has been running these trips for 10 years and has called the carabinieri several times after seeing boats floundering out at sea. He understands why the clandestini try to cross the treacherous Sicilian straits, but says the south of Italy is poor, there's no work, and Lampedusa can't afford to provide for them. He pauses for a moment then adds: "Tourists don't see the clandestini on these trips because the carabinieri make sure they stay away from the beaches." As Gertrude Stein said: "Paradise, if you can stand it."